


Etching

by Sonamae



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Amica's, Etching, Gen, Platonic Life Partners, Robot Feels, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-18 21:22:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3584538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sonamae/pseuds/Sonamae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodimus and Drift give each other etchings because they're losers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Etching

  They were both too hot and cramped in the tiny hall closet, but the privacy was worth it. Yeah sure they were hiding from responsibilities, but they _needed_ this time alone. Rodimus had to be a Captain when those doors opened, and Drift had to be Third-In-Command and Spiritual Advisor. Yet here in this cramped closet they could just be the best friends, no, the _Amica’s_ who had snuck one of Ratchet’s laser pens out of the medi-bay and plotted matching etchings. In here they were just mecha and not heavily important bots on a quest to save all of Cybertron.

  Rodimus tilted his helm to the side as he held his chest plate open, eyes glued to the ceiling. “You have to sit still, okay?” Drift tried to reassure him. “You know I’d never hurt you, but if this is too much you _have_ to tell me. It didn‘t hurt for me, so I know you can do it.” With a long sigh, Rodimus nodded.

  “I trust you.” He bit his bottom lip plate hard when he felt the first etching of the laser pin. “Sorry, it just startled me. Keep going.” Drift never stopped though. He was bent forward, a small flashlight strapped to his shoulder so he could see into the panel.

  If they two of them had been told they’d be giving the other etchings a few million years ago, they’d have laughed in that bots face. Etchings were _serious_ , and while they could be sanded down or the part replaced, they still held a deeper meaning. Rodimus had already set his markings inside the inner wall of Drift’s chest plate, and now he was trying not to squirm away as Drift did his.

  The sharp swoop of Drift’s handwriting had him grunting and Drift stilled the pen. “Almost done, do you want to stop?” he asked, optics trained up at Rodimus curiously.

  Rodimus shook his head no and gripped the edge of his chest plate. “Almost done.” He repeated. Drift smiled and went back in to finish the last of the letter. When he was done he looked at the overheated metal and smiled.

  “It’s not as pretty as yours is.” Drift sat back after turning the pen off and rubbing a thumb absently against his ajar chest plate.

  “Are you kidding?” Rodimus looked down at the etchings and swallowed. “It’s fragging beautiful, I’m keeping it forever.” He let his plating swing closed and winced at the heat. “Does your still hurt?”

  Drift shook his head no and gently closed his own plating, then he reached out and took Rodimus’ hand. They stayed there in silence, leaning into one another with their forehelms touching. If it weren’t for the feint buzz of Rodimus’ comm they might never have moved. They might have just stayed there all day and relaxed against one another.

  “That will be Magnus.” Rodimus muttered. “He’ll freak out if he catches on to my chest being sore, what should I say?” he lifted the comm but neglected to turn it on.

  “I hit you in the chest _really_ hard when we were sparring, so you kicked me back. That covers both of us.” Drift said with a shrug.

  “What if he makes us see Ratchet then?” Rodimus asked, worried.

  “We run.” Drift teased as he leaned forward to brush his nose against his friends. “All Ratchet will do is tell us we should have gotten a professional to do it, watch for rust, all that blather.” He watched his friend chuckle.

  “Alright, I trust you.” Rodimus said before he flipped on the comm. His plating was still warm to the touch, but beneath it were the words he’d hold true.

  ‘Bro’s Til Death.’

  It was silly, but they’d both spent time on Earth and it was a single phrase of slang they both knew meant _‘Together forever.’_ Rodimus listened to Ultra Magnus chatter on and reached out, his thumb brushing Drift’s plating. He mouthed _‘I love you,’_ and got one in return. His grin widened.

  “Sorry, repeat that Magnus, must be getting interference somewhere.”


End file.
